You Give Love a Bad Name
by Arariel
Summary: My parody crossover of Twi-fail and Supernatural.


1

Reality

Sam was slowly waking up in the backseat, to "Welcome to the Jungle", a sure sign he didn't know what had happened between Dean and Anna there; Dean didn't bother telling his brother about those "minor details".

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean's shouted, jolting Sam to consciousness.

Sam remained lying on the car seat. It was even more unfortunate for Sam Dean hadn't bothered cleaning the backseat for a while.

"Tell me why I spent the night sleeping in the backseat of the car?" Sam asked, raising his head up just a bit, and turning some towards Dean.

"Another seal, Sam, another seal. Can't afford to waste time anymore, with so many of them broken already."

"Where to, then?" Sam asked.

"Forks, Washington," Dean replied, "Bobby called last night; he said he found a text that's describing something happening there."

"… Well?" Sam asked impatiently.

"'When tome and actuality are one, so shall it break.'" Dean kept his eyes on the road, which may have been a redeeming factor for him, as he was going 15 miles an hour over the speed limit.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Search me. Bobby just told us to come here to look."

Sam collapsed back onto the seat. Dean spotted a sign up ahead: "Forks – Town Limits".

The radio suddenly went from "You know where you are? You're in the -" to static.

Dean cursed a blue streak. Taking a hand off the wheel, he browsed through the stations.

Dean cursed another blue streak, "There's something wrong with the radio in this town."

"Yeah?"

"All they have are… Muse… some classical shit… -"

"Debussy," interjected Sam.

"- and some 50's stuff."

"Good"

"What?" asked Dean, incredulous. The car swerved wildly for a moment.

"The dock's on the passenger -"

"You'll play your music in my car when hell freezes over."

"Actually," Sam replied, "According to Dante's _Inferno_ -"

"Shut the hell up, Sam, I'm not in the mood!" Dean switched the audio to CD as they drove into town.

2

SM's "Fantasy" – Get It?

The motel they were staying at was flawless. It had a colonial feel about the façade. The brothers expeditiously checked in to the motel. Five minutes later, in their room, Dean traversed back and forth across the room, while Sam lay sprawled across one of the resting places. The orbs in Dean's cranium irradiated palpable agitation.

"Are we supposed to just wait?" Dean exploded in wrath.

"An infinitesimal amount of forbearance never caused anyone an unduly amount of torment," responded Castiel, appearing in the room.

Sam started, then regained his composure, "Why are you communicating in that manner? Wait, why -"

Castiel obstructed his speech, "The demons are attempting to fuse a script with materiality."

"What kind of sh-" Dean blinked, and narrowed his incandescent lamps in bewilderment at his inability to proceed, "-glorious tale are they trying to weld with existence?"

"The celestial attendants of God are absolutely questionless the tome in question is the… venerable tale, _Twilight_, by… Her Majesty Stephenie Meyer," His face was between somewhere between chagrin and pique.

"So how do we prevent the two realms from colliding?" interrupted Sam.

"The other heavenly and I believe depriving the main characters of animation will suffice."

Sam enlarged the crevice that was his mouth to continue picking Castiel's brain, but the angelic host had already dissipated.

"If I ever happen upon Her Majesty Meyer, I will unquestionably shed her hemoglobin for coercing me to communicate my speculations in this manner," Dean muttered, chagrin evident in his voice.

"Since we require more information, I will depart to purchase a replica of that tome," Sam informed Dean.

Dean understandably avoided replying.

In ten minutes, Sam had gained entrée to the local retail sale establishment for literary outputs. There was a gargantuan exhibition featuring a marble, Adonis-like being with liquid topaz eyes, and the volumes composed by Her Majesty, Stephenie Meyer. Prepubescent girls were squealing in delight at the display.

"Excuse me," Sam asked one of them, "But what are the subjects of these publications?"

"O… M… G…," squealed one of them, "You HAVE to read _Twilight_! It's about a really hot vampire-"

"He sparkles!" interjected another fangirl, "Isn't that, like, awesome?"

Sam felt an aching in his cranium. Instead of pursuing a more rational approach, he simply replied, "Thank you kindly, I will certainly attempt to complete the tome in question."

"Definitely!" said another, "It's, like, the Bible!"

Sam was disappointed he was not viewing no incandescent bolts of lightning crashing down from the heavens.

At the motel, he opened the volume, his scintillating orbs browsing the first page. His lamps blurred. Sam departed from the room, and arrived back with several canisters of beer. He opened a can, and took a sip.

Sam sighed, "This will require an especially lengthy amount of time."


End file.
